


Again

by Impala_Cherry_Trickster



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Awesome Gabriel (Supernatural), Blindness, Broken Bones, Deaf, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt Sam Winchester, Lucifer (Supernatural) Being an Asshole, Lucifer (Supernatural) Out of the Cage, Lucifer Possessing Nick (Supernatural), M/M, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sam Winchester Needs a Hug, Season/Series 11 Spoilers, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-17
Updated: 2019-07-11
Packaged: 2020-05-13 14:08:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19252744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Impala_Cherry_Trickster/pseuds/Impala_Cherry_Trickster
Summary: Lucifer, no longer possessing Castiel, decides to hurt Dean Winchester in the best way possible. By hurting his baby brother.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Guys, don't read if you don't like Dark Fics. Possible second chapter if anyone wants one :)

Oh, Lord help him, he was going to die. It had been his fault, as usual. Going down to the Cage, Castiel getting hurt by Lucifer, the Devil now standing in the basement looking very angry. He was in Nick’s body, the same one Sam had seen him in down in the Cage, and he was fighting the urge to cry. Dean and Castiel were both chained to chairs, Cas with Angel cuffs, but Sam didn’t try running for the door. He didn’t try fighting either, curled up against the wall with his hands to either side of his head, trying to stop the inevitable mental breakdown.

Lucifer was talking, something smug about how he was going to win, how they had a common enemy. Sam couldn’t care less about the darkness, partly because there was no way he was getting out of this situation alive, he thought miserably. Looking up the blond man, Sam then looked to the door. He could run. Could go and find Rowena and Crowley, get them to help him. Could even pray to the Archangel he knew wasn’t dead, but that was supposed to be a secret.

Gabriel might not want to help him, but surely he wouldn’t let Castiel die? And, by default, if Castiel was alive, so was Dean. That could work, Sam mused, but his muscles wouldn’t listen to the order to run. Fear kept him curled on the floor, Lucifer still winding the other two up.

‘I don’t even need Sammy as my Vessel anymore, this bad boy’s permanent.’ Lucifer gestured to Nick, a smug look on his face. Sam was glad, he didn’t particularly want to get into the fight with Lucifer about saying yes. Now that Michael was in the Cage, Lucifer didn’t need to worry about having a “true vessel”. He didn’t need the power that Sam’s body would bring.

‘But, of course, I’m here for the fun. What’s a better way to piss off a Winchester,’ Lucifer drawled, looking straight at Sam, ‘Than hurt the other one.’ Those eyes were wicked, cold blue, and Sam knew exactly what he was going to do. Knew, because he’d spent all them years in the Cage with Lucifer, knew every facial expression and mood-swing that came his way. Sam did move now, stumbling towards the open door to get as far away from that look as possible.

‘Sammy, if you leave the room, I’m going to have to do it to Dean and Feathers.’ That froze the younger Winchester, who realised that he couldn’t LEAVE Dean and Cas to face the Devil themselves! They had no idea what he could do, the torture Lucifer was capable of. Slowly, the youngest in the room turned, not looking to the two gagged people making sounds. Probably to save himself. Lucifer looked pleased, smiling, pearly white teeth being shown off.

‘Good choice, Sam. Which one do you want to lose?’ Oh, he’d made this decision so many times, but Lucifer made it equally painful each time. He hesitated, thinking about the pain that was indefinitely going to come. He sent a silent prayer up to whoever was listening, then slowly spoke, annoyed by how weak his voice sounded.

‘H-hear.’ He stuttered, and the Devil clapped his hands together like a schoolchild.

‘Perfect choice, Sammy. Do this well, and I might even let Dean live!’ That was nice, the Hunter thought, but he had someone else he needed to save.

‘Cas as well.’ He snapped, momentary braveness taking over. Lucifer looked pleased, crouching down in front of him as Sam cowered back, really wishing he hadn’t spoken.

‘Another for Castiel. I’m not giving him out freely. Make it a good one.’ Sam hesitated, before he understood what Lucifer wanted.

‘S-s-sight.’ Lucifer brought his hand to Sam’s head, and the Winchester screamed, the familiar burning off his eyes going blind. It lasted no more than a couple of seconds, but he knew that it would look horrible, Lucifer had described in detail what he looked like when his eyes were gone. He couldn’t hear either, so Lucifer had taken that away. Sam had done this many times, but it was still dangerous, he still had to figure out what Lucifer wanted.

**

The Devil ignored the muffled protests of the two in the chairs, looking down to the blind and deaf Winchester in front of him. Sam hadn’t moved, didn’t try and get away, it looked like the Cage had actually taught him well.

‘Now, Sammy can’t hear you, but he can hear me, as long as I’m touching him.’ Lucifer explained, wanting them to have the full benefit of the show he was about to put on. He reached forwards, fingers grazing Sam’s cheek, felt the boy flinch.

‘Easy, Sammy. For that, you get a full ten seconds.’ He promised, watching in amusement as Sam used them wisely. Now blind and deaf, the Winchester was like a baby giraffe as he tried to get to his feet, turning in the direction of the door. A ten seconds head start, and Sam used them well, even if he almost ran into a lot of things. It was funny, but Lucifer prowled after him slowly, watching the stupid Hunter attempt to hide.

One kick to the back of the leg sent him pitch-forwards into the concrete floor, nose hitting the ground. Lucifer would have winced, but he was too busy stomping down on the left ankle, bones smashing under the pressure. Sam howled, even when deaf he made the most incredible sounds, unable to hear what he was saying. The Devil paused, wondering if he should break the other one, before he gripped the unbroken ankle and hauled Sam back. Dean looked pretty murderous, and the Devil could only grin, knowing this was going to be so enjoyable.

‘My beautiful Vessel, let’s see how well you remembered your lessons.’ He stated softly, a hand tracing the bare skin on Sam’s hand. The boy shuddered, still on his stomach, and Lucifer grinned. This would be fun.

**

His mind was a complete blur, screams of protest at the fact the DEVIL was the one holding him down. Sam sobbed as his third finger was broken, unable to hear the sound, but quite able to feel the shocking pain. He writhed under the body of Nick, trying to ignore the hard lump pressed against him, trying to fight with what little energy he had.

‘It’s such a shame, because you and I both know that they don’t really care, do they Sammy?’ Oh, Sam had heard that so many times, heard the Devil repeat it constantly as Sam lay in the Cage, waiting for freedom. He sobbed harder, remembering the freezing cold ground, remembering the sinking realisation that Dean wasn’t coming for him, that Castiel didn’t care about him.

‘What are you Sam?’ The Devil inquired, breaking the fourth finger. He bit his lip hard enough that he knew he’d split it, felt the blood dribble down his chin. The sharp pressure around his neck reminded him that Lucifer wanted an answer, and Sam forced himself to speak, even if he didn’t know how loud it was.

‘An a-abom-mination.’ He struggled, felt Lucifer trail cold fingers down his back, and when did his shirt disappear? The Hunter squirmed, felt nails dig into the flesh on his back, tried to forget how it felt when his skin was peeled.

‘Oh, I’ve done that before, Winchester. Sammy looks so pretty without his skin, don’t you?’ The last bit was aimed at him, but he guessed that Dean must have muffled something from behind his gag. Sam nodded, face squashed into the cold floor, trying to appease the all-powerful creature that held him down. He didn’t look pretty without his skin, and it really hurt, but Sam wasn’t going to say that aloud. It would make the Devil mad.

‘Sammy, I think you owe an apology to Feathers, after all, he became my bodysuit because of you, didn’t he?’ Sam nodded again, that was true, he had got Cas hurt. Lucifer’s fingers hit the waistband of his jeans, Sam knew they wouldn’t remain for long, but he hadn’t got Sam to admit it yet. Another finger, this time on his right hand, broke.

‘S-sorry, Cas-stiel.’ Sam stated, and Lucifer settled, fingers looping into his hair.

‘Oh, it must hurt to know the Angel doesn’t like you. Why does he even bother staying?’ Lucifer cooed; lips cold against Sam’s shoulder-blades and nails digging into his hips. Teeth grazed skin, and Sam bit back a louder sob.

‘F-for D-Dean.’ Sam admitted, the words sour, even more sour when his head was slammed back into the concrete.

‘And why does Dean stay?’ Sam sobbed, actually sobbed this time, not wanting this to happen. Hands withdrew from his body, and Sam knew what was happening, because it happened so often. He didn’t even flinch when the belt his back, even though it was done with the strength of an Archangel. His back tore open, but it wasn’t as painful as the words.

‘O-oblig-ged.’ Sam finally got out, forgetting all about the other two in the room, in fact, he wasn’t entirely sure he ever left the Cage. This seemed to be exactly like the scenes down in Hell, he thought miserably, knowing Lucifer had probably undone his jeans by now. Sam waited to feel the cold of air on bare skin.

‘That’s right, Sam. Neither of them really want you, do they?’ Ah, there it was. Cold took over his skin, goose-bumps raising on his skin and Sam tried to squirm away. He didn’t want this, never wanted it, it hurt so much and his mind couldn’t take anymore pain, he couldn’t do this again, he wanted to be back so badly but the Devil stood, and something landed on his bare leg, and he screamed as the bone broke. It was bad, even he knew that, could feel the bone, then felt his leg angled. Freezing skin touched his, and Sam just cried, he didn’t know what else to do.

‘Answer the question, Sammy.’ Lucifer said, and it could almost be considered gentle. Sam stopped the crying for long enough to say No, and then howled as Lucifer pushed forwards. It wasn’t like this was the first time, but it hadn’t happened since Hell, and it was painful. Really painful, he felt himself tear as the cold skin pushed inside, felt hands pull his hips flush back against the Devil’s body.

‘Oh, I’ve missed this.’ Lucifer purred, pulling back and slamming in hard. Sam’s body was forced down onto concrete, but it didn’t really matter anymore, he just lay there gently sobbing. Nobody ever answered his prayers, why was he surprised.

‘I’ll just have to keep your eyes open.’ The Devil stated as he pounded, barely sounding out of breath, and Sam realised he must be talking to the others. He knew, from personal experience, that having his eyes forcibly kept open was painful, they could blink, but it wouldn’t be enough to stop them from seeing this. Sam gasped, felt Lucifer’s cock brush something that was bordering on pleasurable, and he started thrashing again. He could deal with this, deal with the Devil fucking him on the floor of the dungeon, but he couldn’t deal with what usually came next.

It had happened fifty years into captivity, the first time Sam had orgasmed from Lucifer’s ministrations. He used Grace, poured it into his body, wrapped it around the softest and most sensitive spots in his body and abused them beyond belief. When Sam felt the Grace moved forwards he screamed, trying to focus on anything but the pleasure that he now felt, trying to ignore the rapidly hardening length between his thighs, tried to stop the inevitable.

‘Such a good bitch, Sammy!’ The Devil exclaimed, pushing more Grace forwards. Sam thought about repeatedly banging his head into the floor, hoping he would crack his skull and die, then remembered that Lucifer was an Archangel, so naturally that wouldn’t work. His pain grew, pressure on his broken leg increased, and he could tell Lucifer was starting to get close. His thrusts became harder, deeper, and Sam really didn’t want this, really didn’t want him to force this out of him.

‘Noises, Sammy! Shame we don’t have Michael’s cock to fill that greedy mouth of yours, hmm?’ The Devil panted out, nails breaking skin on his hips and crushing bone as he orgasmed, and Sam heard the roar echo in his mind. He knew what would happen, the bright blue shine of his Grace would radiate around the room, before he’d focus it on Sam’s prostate and the he’d pass out. It still hit him by surprise, Sam arching off the floor even thought the Devil had pulled out, felt hot spurt across his stomach, mixing with the cold seed dripping onto the floor.

**

The Devil panted, did his jeans back up, ran a hand through his hair. His Vessel was unconscious, he would probably only remain that way for around thirty seconds, but it was enough time for him to momentarily glance to the Angel and the Hunter tied up. They looked horrified, Dean had tears streaming down his face and his throat would probably need repairing from trying to shout for his brother, but that didn’t bother the Devil. The Angel looked angry, oh so angry, and Lucifer felt pleased.

He nudged Sam with his foot, watched the human start to stir, replacing the jeans with a flick of his hand but leaving the shirt off. The wince told him that the jeans were hurting the broken leg, but the Devil didn’t really care. Putting a hand on his skin so Sam could hear him, he spoke,

‘Up, Sam. Remember, I could still do this to your brother or pet Angel. D’you think they would look pretty on the floor?’ He felt Sam shudder, knew the boy would do anything to stop that happening. Truth be told, Lucifer had no interest in the other two, it was only ever Sam that intrigued him. Such an interesting character, and made entirely for him, hence why he just took what he wanted. Sam was his right.

He watched in amusement as the boy rolled, sucking in air as he shifted his broken leg. It must be agony, the Devil thought with a coy smile, watched the Hunter kneel awkwardly. He enjoyed this bit almost as much as he did pouring his Grace into the boy, loved the way that Sam would do anything to keep his brother safe. Self-sacrificing Winchesters, he mused.

‘T-t-thank-k y-you L-Lucif-fer.’ The Devil listened to the words, so hard to make out under the stuttering and stammering, but it was enough. He patted his head softly, a fond smile crossing his face.

‘Good boy, Sammy. That was fun, wasn’t it?’ He loved this part, the anger that the Winchester felt. Sam’s face morphed into horror, and despite being blind, deaf and broken in multiple places, he still lashed out with his right hand, which only had one broken finger. He managed to strike Lucifer’s knee, and the Devil bit back a laugh as he tried again, sobbing harder and harder, until he just sunk to the floor and curled up.

‘Now, now, Sammy. I’ve got you.’ The Devil assured, stroking the boy’s hair, before he pressed down on his throat. He heard Dean protest, sore throat try to scream, Sam struggling under the pressure. The Devil pushed harder, watched Sam try and gasp, fascinated by the way such a tall man could seem so small. Eventually, just at the point of passing out, he let go. The boy coughed and choked, tried to regain his breath, and the Devil smiled.

‘Fun, wasn’t it?’

**

The tone was more angry, even as the words jumped around in his mind. Sam hurt, hurt everywhere, and he didn’t want to say it was fun. It was rubbing salt into wounds that would kill most, but the Hunter admitted defeat, opening his mouth.

‘F-fun-n.’ He assured, before something else entered the room. He felt it, felt a bright burning in his soul and recognised it, of course he recognised it! The Hunter couldn’t hear or see, but he knew to get out of the way, scrambled as fast as he could to avoid the two Archangels in the room. Something happened, one second Lucifer’s Grace was all around him, the next he felt something burst. He was slightly glad he couldn’t see, felt Lucifer’s Grace flare up and burn, then felt the reassuring and familiar warmth of Gabriel’s.

He’d only had it once, when he’d found out the Trickster was alive, and had tried to press a gun to his temple. Not because of the Trickster, no, the Archangel had found him like that. He could tell where Gabriel was, could feel his Grace, and tried for a smile.

‘T-t-took you l-long-g en-nough.’ He managed, staring in the direction of the bright Grace. He heard a faint chuckle inside his head, smiled as the Trickster crouched down in front, offered out his mostly unbroken hand to the man. A hand touched his, and he felt it, Grace pour in.

‘N-no, d-don’t t-t-tire.’ He tried, not wanting the Archangel to wear himself out on him, he had just taken down Lucifer, he presumed. Slowly, he found his fingers able to move, then his leg, and the bones in his body that were broken started to heal. He sighed, moved so he rested his head on the Trickster’s shoulder, felt the Wings wrap around him. This had happened before, he knew how this worked. Gabriel held him, until he started to faintly hear things, felt the burning in his eyes start to recover.

When he blinked, sight returned, and he found himself confronted with a sequined top, purple in colour. He laughed softly, throat sore, and looked into the golden-ringed eyes.

‘S-suits y-you.’ He stated, and the Archangel gave a soft smile, although he could see the pain. Sam looked past him, looked to the body on the floor that was burning up. Lucifer.

‘Don’t look, Sammich. Sleep. I’ve got you.’ The Trickster assured, raising a hand towards his head. Sam caught it first, the two staring at each other.

‘You c-came.’

‘You prayed. I told you I’d come, Samalam. Even though I had to break all of the warding in the Bunker to get here.’ Sam momentarily thought about how much energy he must have spent, opened his mouth yet again,

‘T-t-thanks.’ The Trickster scoffed, pressed two fingers to his head, and Sam, thankfully, fell asleep.


	2. Hurt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam just needs a hug.

Dreams were filled with memories of the Cage, of Sam stuck in that icy pit that never gave him hope. Of lying on the cold floor, watching the two Archangels battle it out, neither considerate towards Sam. He remembered Adam, curled in the corner looking terrified, of Sam’s deal to ensure that his half-brother wasn’t hurt. Michael had always been cold towards Sam, using him to get rid of his pent up anger, but Lucifer was worse. He enjoyed torturing Sam, enjoyed the pain.

When Sam woke up, it was dark, and he fumbled blindly for the lamp beside him. The light flicked on, revealing the room in the Bunker than belonged to him, not the Icy Cage. He breathed out steadily, rose his hands to his face and traced along his cheekbones. It didn’t hurt, the bruises were gone, and his eyes were back. He could see, could hear the faint sounds the Bunker’s generator produced. Sam thought back, remembering the bright Grace of Gabriel, the Archangel who saved him. Sam would need to thank him.

Dean had seen what Lucifer did. So had Castiel. Sam’s heart sped up at the thought, of how weak he must have been. Of how angry they were going to be when he tried to explain that he didn’t mean to enjoy what the Devil had done, it was just hard to ignore so much Grace being poured into his body. The memories of the ice-cold Grace made him retch, stomach threatening to throw up bile.

Lucifer had burnt up. He remembered the heat, remembered the warmth that had spread across the room. He needed to know, needed to make sure that he was indeed dead, hopefully then Dean would be less mad at him for allowing the Devil to use him. To make him his Bitch. Shuddering, he stood up, found fresh clothing and shoved them on. The lights were off, so Sam walked through in darkness, enjoying the peace. Hell hadn't been that dark, the fire had always made it burn bright.

He didn’t expect to find the others in the library. Sam stopped, unfortunately the sound drew attention, and the trio turned. Sam avoided the gaze of his brother and Cas, not wanting to see the disappointment, but focused instead on Gabriel. The Trickster gave a lopsided smile, and Sam padded across, walking towards the kitchen. He needed coffee, or something to do, just to stop his mind from focusing on the body in their dungeon.

 **‘You should sit down.’** Gabriel remarked in Enochian, Sam not realising the trap until he had fallen perfectly into it.

‘I’m fine.’ He stated, ignoring the Archangel as he disappeared into the kitchen. It was only half-way through making coffee that he realised he had spoken in Enochian, and Sam had replied to it. Huh, maybe his time with Lucifer was affecting his mind more than he thought.

Returning to the library, Sam wondered if Gabriel was going to stay and help them with the Darkness. It would be useful, now that Lucifer was off the playing field, to have Gabriel on their side. He took a seat, realising that his brother was definitely staring at him, and it was very awkward. He sipped at the hot coffee, wondering if there was a way he could get through this conversation without having to apologise for being too weak.

‘Is he dead?’ Sam asked, not bothering to look up from the coffee.

‘As dead as he can be. I don’t doubt that Lucifer could come back.’ Gabriel said, and Sam risked a glance to the Trickster. He had changed out of the shirt, was wearing one of Sam’s flannels, but that didn’t matter. Not when he had healed him, undoing the damage that Lucifer had done. Well, the physical damage.

‘That’s better than nothing.’ Sam provided, thinking about how he could do with a nice hot shower. One hot enough to burn away Lucifer’s touches, to forget the feeling of his Grace swirling under his skin.

‘Sammy…’ Dean began, and Sam’s stomach twisted tight. The thought of the words that would follow, the thought of Dean being upset with him, of judging him for being Lucifer’s bitch, made him want to hide. The ground, however, did not swallow him up, so Sam had to risk a glance to his older brother.

‘Yeah, I know.’ Sam bluntly stated, thinking about whether his brother wanted a verbal apology. He couldn’t tell, Dean’s face was so… open. So many emotions that Sam couldn’t pinpoint, and he was surprised to find the Angel in a similar state. He didn’t know what to do, what he should apologise for first, and knew his heartbeat was picking up. Now wasn’t the time to have a panic attack, he thought miserably, but his body didn’t seem to listen.

‘Breathe, Moose.’ Gabriel stated, reaching across to lightly place his fingers on Sam’s arm. The Hunter watched his skin glow slightly, Grace moving through to stop the images playing in his head, and it was warm enough that his mind didn’t make connections between Lucifer and Gabriel. That would be bad, he mused.

‘I need a shower.’ Sam stated, pulling out of the Archangel’s grasp and heading out of the room, not bothering to hide his shaking hands. There wasn’t any point, they had seem him at his most vulnerable, at the Devil’s mercy. They already knew how weak he was.

**

Gabriel was the one who found him. He turned off the now-cold water, grabbed a towel and wrapped it around his shoulders. Sam didn’t move, couldn’t move, stayed curled up on the floor. His legs tight to his chest, arms wrapped around his knees, Sam tried to stop the tears from falling.

‘S’my fault, Gabe. S’all my fault.’ He muttered, feeling the tears track down his cheeks. Gabriel just hummed softly, ran a hand through his hair to dry it. How Gabriel manoeuvred him back towards his room, Sam didn’t know, but he did. Boxers were snapped on, Sam sat on the bed, and Gabriel looked at him.

‘I’m going to get Dean, don’t move.’ Sam didn’t think he could, even if he tried. His gaze flicked across to the gun on top of his bedside table, stared at it for a long time. It wasn’t the first time his thoughts had orientated themselves this way. It wouldn’t be the last, either, if his life kept going in this pattern. He had risen that gun to his temple the grand total of five times in his life, and each time, something had stopped him.

But this time, he wasn’t sure if anyone would. Gabriel, maybe, but the rest wouldn’t care. Dean would hate him, Castiel would hate him, and Sam had done nothing but get them into trouble. He had been the reason they went down to the Cage, he had been the reason that Castiel got hurt. He was the cause of all these issues, everything, and yet he still wasn’t strong enough to pull the trigger.

He wasn’t entirely sure when the gun got in his hands, cradled in his palms as he stared down, but his mind had gone blank. He didn’t really want to die, didn’t want to go to Hell, but he didn’t think he could stand seeing the rejection and disappointment on his brother’s face when he walked out of this room. After all, Sam had done what Dean had told him never to do. He gave in. He let the Devil do what he wanted, didn’t even fight. Because Sam Winchester had been broken from the moment he was born, from the moment blood was dripped into his mouth.

He was poison. He killed Mom, and Jess, and the other Special kids. He got Dad killed, and so many innocent people that he couldn’t save. He started the apocalypse, drank Demon blood, let Lucifer out of the Cage again. He was soulless, got Dean trapped in Purgatory, didn’t look for him. Sam was the one who kept messing up, and Dean felt obliged to look after him. The best thing Sam could do, the thing he should have done to begin with, was to pull the trigger.

Hands batted the gun away just before his finger tightened around it, the gun going skidding across the room, and it was only then that Sam realised he was crying again. Calloused hands took his, green eyes searched his face for any signs of hope, but Sam was crying. Crying, because he wasn’t sure why Dean hadn't hit him yet, or said that he was a failure. Instead, his brother wrapped arm around him, and Sam allowed himself that momentary warmth, allowed his head to rest on his brother’s shoulder.

Hands rubbed his back, ran through his hair, held him close. Lips close to his ear murmured words of comfort, told Sam that he was alright, that Dean wouldn’t leave him. Sam just cried harder, allowed himself to be situated on the bed next to Dean, pulled his brother close and buried his head into the side of his neck. Down in Hell, the thoughts that kept him sane were Dean. The thoughts that stopped him from saying Yes to the Devil, they were always Dean.

Because Dean was the only constant, Baby aside, in his life. Dean, who always smelt of engine oil and leather and spice. Dean, who had raised him since he was six months old, had fed him and taught him how to Hunt, taught him how to Drive. Dean, who hadn't given up on him even when Sam was the very worst of humanity.

‘I’m not leaving you, Sammy. You and me, baby brother.’ The words were said into his hair, and Sam relaxed against his older brother, trying to make his brain work. He needed to say sorry, needed to explain to Dean that he never meant for this to happen.

‘M’sorry, De.’ Was all Sam said, and the arms around him tightened.

‘No need, baby brother. You saved us.’


End file.
